Watching Chimpanzees
by Here But Not For Long
Summary: Tony can certainly get himself and his tiny daughter ready to leave for vacation without Ziva's help... can't he? It's too bad that 2-year-old Tali might have other plans.


A/N: Rather than working on _We Are an Ocean_ today like I meant to, I started typing and this came out instead. Oops! Anyway, enjoy some Tiva family fluff. Let's say that this is set in a world where Ziva came home in season 11 rather than staying in Israel pregnant.

* * *

"One thing I had learned from watching chimpanzees with their infants is that having a child should be fun." –Jane Goodall

* * *

Vacation—it's a good thing, right? Relaxation, being away from work, new sights to see, and time with family. It's perfect; nothing could be better, that's what people say.

Right now, Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo doesn't believe it at all.

When they were planning the trip, it seemed like a decent idea. _Let us take a long weekend or a week and go to the Pacific Northwest_, Ziva had suggested. _We need to see more of the country than our own little bubble. _

_Sure, _Tony had agreed, though someplace rainy wasn't exactly his ideal holiday spot. Still, Ziva's enthusiasm always makes him want to know more and she knows just how to smile to get him to agree, so that's exactly what happened.

That was six months ago.

Now, knee deep in half-packed luggage, Tony wants to cancel the whole trip altogether. He can't find his travel pillow, he keeps getting distracted and forgetting how many pairs of underwear he's already packed, and he can't for the life of him figure out why they need a third suitcase. Sure, there are three people traveling, but the third is tiny and her things are tiny, too.

Also, things that he just _knows _he's already packed keep coming up missing, and he suspects either the littlest David-DiNozzo or the cat. It could go either way, honestly, and the two often conspire together. Despite being only two years old, Tali has the cat firmly wrapped around her chubby little finger. The cat does not like Tony nearly so much.

Speaking of Tali, where's she disappeared to? A highly suspicious look on his face, Tony scans the room—Tali had been in here a few minutes ago, and now she is not. The silence in the house as he strains his ears for signs of mischief is heavily suspect.

Huffing, he marches from the room, intending to find the little troublemaker. She's not in the bathroom, she's not in her bedroom, and she's not in front of the television.

He finally tracks her down in the kitchen, where she's mercifully normal-looking. She doesn't appear to have gotten into anything too messy and Tony can't see any spills. Thanking his lucky stars that Ziva isn't going to come home wanting to leave and find him trying to clean up an oil slick that covers half the kitchen (it's happened before), he drops to the floor next to his daughter with a bit of a back-aching groan. "Whatcha got, Tals?" he asks, running his fingers through the dark downy hair on her head.

She grins, showing a bright set of teeth, and holds up a little spill-proof container of Goldfish crackers. "Fish, Daddy!" she informs him cheerfully.

"Mm, trying to spoil your lunch, are you?"

"Fish for lunch?"

He chuckles and scoops her into his lap suddenly enough to make her squeal with glee. "No, baby girl, we can't have fish for lunch. Your mama would kill me if that's all I gave you, and I think you'd get hungry on the plane. What else sounds good?"

"Fish." She shoves another in her mouth, emphasizing her love for the stuff.

She's so damn cute that he wants to give in and just let her have what she wants, but he's made that mistake before. Ziva's annoyance with him at the time is enough to make him wince now and stick to his guns.

"Enough fish, Tali." He gently pries the container from her small hand, making her cry out in anger.

"No, Daddy!"

"Yes, Tali," he says firmly, and gets to his feet as quickly as he can while holding her. He's slow and getting old, he thinks.

Trying to stave off a tantrum, he hurries to the fridge and pulls it open so Tali can see the tantalizing variety of non-fish-related food that they have available for the taking. "What else do you want, little love?"

"Juice?"

"That's a start, I guess." He sets her down and pulls the juice out to make her a cup. She watches with big eyes, staring up at him through thick lashes she inherited from her mother. When the juice is ready, he offers it to her, and she starts sucking it down and wanders a few feet away. "I guess I'll figure out lunch myself." He goes back to the fridge and pokes through it. "Not much in here that's fresh since we're leaving soon. How about a good ol' PB&J?" he says to himself.

"Pea butter? Please?"

"Oh, I guess that's got your approval, then." He hadn't realized she was listening.

"I help?"

"Sure. C'mere, love." He scoops her up once more and sets her firmly on the counter as he sets out ingredients around her. She can't really help, of course, but she's always interested in being at adult height and seeing what her parents are up to. As long as he keeps an eye on her and makes certain that she doesn't slide off the counter, she'll be fine.

He tells her a silly story that he makes up on the spot as he works, making a sandwich for each of them. He's pretty sure she doesn't understand the finer points of it, but his loud character noises and exaggerated expressions make her giggle. He marvels once again at how impossibly adorable his offspring is.

When the sandwiches are done, he goes to cut them into smaller, Tali-sized pieces when he realizes that he doesn't have a knife out. "Stay," he commands Tali softly, and he turns around to grab the utensil. It's then that he hears a noise that makes his heart stop.

It's the sound of a piece of plastic hitting the countertop and bouncing to the floor. "Talia David-DiNozzo, don't you even think about it," he says in a low voice before turning very slowly to look at his daughter.

She's frozen with one hand dangerously close to the top of the now-reopened jar of peanut butter that he left sitting next to her. Crap. That was his first mistake. Tali stares at him, not moving. He's equally still, waiting for her to make the first move.

"Tali, I said _no_," he cautions after another moment with no movement. Still looking him directly in the eye, she sticks a single finger into the peanut butter. "_Tali! _Get your finger out of there. That stuff is messy and you're way too skilled at getting it everywhere. Come on—finger out and no one gets in trouble." He feels like he's in a Mexican standoff; somehow, parenting a toddler has him feeling like that at least a few times a week. This time, though, it's high stakes. He does _not _have time to deal with a Talinado mess today.

Their eye contact grows more intense and Tony's heart rate increases. Ten seconds later, when she still has not moved, he takes a step toward her, intending to make sure she does no further damage.

That's his second mistake. As _soon _as he steps towards her, she plunges her entire fist into the gooey condiment, and by the time he's reached her two steps later, her other hand has joined it.

All he can do now is damage control. He plucks his daughter off of the counter, thinking he'll deposit her directly in the sink for a wash, but when he does, the jar of peanut butter falls off of her hands and crashes to the floor. Not for the first time, he curses his wife's affinity for organic products, because this isn't the heavily processed stuff he likes. That stuff would stay in the same shape in its jar if dropped off of the Empire State Building, he's pretty sure.

This stuff isn't like that. It's all separated out in a thin consistency, oil and peanut particles in different layers. As a consequence, as soon as it hits the floor, it splatters _everywhere_. In an unbelievably short amount of time, Tony's pants, the floor, the cabinets, and the fridge are caked with runny nut butter. "Shit!" he curses, still holding Tali at a distance from his body as if she's radioactive. She might as well be for all the damage she's caused.

"Shit!" Tali repeats gleefully.

Tony would facepalm if he wasn't otherwise occupied. He pauses for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. His deliberation ends with a decision to bathe Tali before doing anything else, and he heads toward the sink. Unfortunately, it's on the other side of the kitchen from him, meaning he has to cross the peanut butter swamp to get there. He steps very carefully, first one step and then two. He's about to make his third step—his last—when Tali suddenly wriggles, threatening his hold on her. He fumbles slightly and works on tightening his grip, but the move throws his balance off and he slips.

Down he goes. His only priority is Tali, so when he hits the floor, it's without the benefit of hands breaking his fall. He thuds to the tile onto his back with a loud groan, but the important thing is that Tali is safely on his chest, looking startled. He can feel two sticky handprints starting to soak through his shirt from where the little girl landed her hands, but that hardly matters now that he's laying in the stuff.

"Shit!" Tali says again, and this time, she sounds like she means it.

Tony can't help it—he bursts into laughter. It makes his already awfully sore back ache twice as much, but he laughs til he cries. It doesn't take Tali long to join in, and he can't say for sure how long he lays there in the peanut butter, giggling with his girl.

Ziva walks in the front door a few minutes later. "McGee finally fixed my computer," she calls out as she walks in, hanging up her coat and taking off her shoes. "I thought I would have to rewrite my report and that my work was lost, so it is a very good thing that Tim got it working again." She doesn't get an answer, so she goes off in search of Tony and Tali.

She finds them almost immediately in the kitchen and though she isn't an easy person to surprise, she finds herself completely shocked at what she sees. They haven't noticed her yet, so she stands there observing them. They're laying side by side in a thick brown layer of what appears to be peanut butter and they're talking to one another in low voices, both wearing a big grin.

"Tali made mess?" their daughter is saying.

"Oooooh, baby girl, you made a _big _mess," Tony answers, laughing. "An impressive mess, really. I think you have a talent."

"Want pea butter," she responds, sticking her finger in her mouth and making an exaggerated "mm!" noise to show her appreciation for the taste. Tony laughs again and does the same thing to imitate her, which she loves.

"I take it that the two of you are in this together?" Ziva finally says, crossing her arms and looking at them sternly, hiding her amusement.

"Ziva!" Tony cries guiltily, sitting up quickly. "We were just…"

"Destroying my kitchen?" she finishes for him.

"_Ima_! _Ima_, Tali made mess!" Tali informs her gleefully.

That finally cracks Ziva's unsmiling exterior, and she chuckles. "I can see that, _ahava shelli_. Did your _abba_ help you make it?"

Tali shakes her head. "_Abba _clean mess," she corrects, and Tony laughs.

"Oh, is that how it's gonna be? I'm just your clean-up crew? You're just like your mother!" He lunges forward, sliding easily in the mess, and tickles her mercilessly. She squeals and squirms, but it couldn't be more obvious that she loves it. After a few moments of tickle torture, Tony picks her up and snuggles her.

"You know what?" he murmurs to the girl, almost too low for Ziva to hear. "I'll be your clean-up crew any day, sweet girl. You just keep on having fun and I'll keep on cleaning up after you. I can't think of anything I'd love more."

"Mama clean, too?" Tali wants to know, unimpressed by her father's sentimentality.

"Mama wasn't here when we made the mess, so I think this one might be up to us." He grins up at his wife, and her affectionate expression feels like a gift. She smiles back at him.

"You might be able to persuade me to help, if you ask nicely," she tells them, entertained. "We need to depart for the airport soon, however. Did you finish the packing?"

"_Packing!_" Tony cries, contrite. He knew he forgot something in the great peanut butter fiasco. He has not, in fact, finished that particular job. "Crap, what time is it?"

"It is around noon."

"It's _noon!?" _He starts to get to his feet. "We're going to miss the flight if we don't leave, like, five minutes ago!'

Ziva surprises him by bursting into laughter. "We will be fine."

"Not if our flight's on time, we won't. The airport's a half hour away in good traffic, and the flight's at 1:30."

"No, it is not."

"...it's not?" He's definitely confused.

"No, my love, the flight is at 3:30." Ziva's still wearing a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin, and Tony can't help but feel like he's missing something.

"Why'd you tell me it was at 1:30, then?" he demands.

Ziva gestures to the disaster that is their kitchen. "I was anticipating some… ah, delays in your preparations. It was safer to tell you an earlier time than make you believe we had more time and risk use leaving too late."

"That's… fair." He shakes his head, chuckling again.

Ziva carefully picks her way across the mess to where Tony and Tali are still sitting. Careful not to fall into the muck herself, she bends down to kiss Tali's forehead and Tony's lips. "Come, my loves," she says softly, almost cooing. "Let us clean up and finish packing. We have a great week ahead of us, but only if we can pull ourselves together and get to the airport on time, yes?"

"Sounds good to me," Tony agrees, smiling at his wife and daughter.

"Shit," Tali concurs.

Tony turns his head to muffle his laughter in his sleeve as he feels Ziva's eyes boring holes into the side of his head. Maybe vacation won't be so bad after all.


End file.
